


Guilty

by Ismaire



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: F/M, If you haven't played please don't read, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spoilers, there are spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 02:37:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13090632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ismaire/pseuds/Ismaire
Summary: She never would have expected for them to get along so well.





	1. .i

Her death was a sad one. But they all had to move on, just like she would have wanted.  
  
However, as tragic as Kaede Akamatsu's death was, they had more access to places now. They discovered a few more labs, more in particular, Hoshi's, Harukawa's Gokuhara's, and her's, Tojo's.  
  
Her lab was an exquisite one. Everything a maid could need was provided. Expensive rags, cleaning supplies, rococo furniture, all of the works. The lab itself had a very pristine, Victorian-esque feel to it.  
  
However what she failed to notice was the anthropologist who was also admiring the architecture of her laboratory.   
  
She knew of his love for humanity, finding all of the beauty within it. Truthfully, she never found Shinguji to be at all creepy. He was incredibly polite and respectful, and he loved what he was the best at—Anthropology. She could respect someone who loved what they did best.  
  
So perhaps seeing him in her laboratory enjoying the architecture from an anthropological point of view wasn’t surprising. She didn’t mind his company, either. She had sat down with him a few times after everyone left from mealtime, and he was remarkably intelligent. And perhaps this was paradoxical, but he was charmastic. Not in a typical boyish way, his charisma was much more sophisticated in ways Tojo had never experienced before. Truly, she enjoyed his presence. Perhaps a bit more than everyone else’s, which included Saihara unfortunately.  
  
“This style is so exquisite,” she heard him say, running his bandaged fingers across the pillars of her room, carefully examining the wallpaper that adorned the lab. “Victorian era decor, a style any anthropologist can appreciate.”  
  
“I have to admit that I am surprised that Monokuma paid this much detail to my preferences. He got everything down to my preferences in dusters and mops,” she responded. “The decor, I have to agree with you on, Shinguji. It is a timeless classic for any maid.”  
  
Of course she was no historian nor anthropologist, however she did know quite a bit in her own right. She worked with many intelligent people, that knowledge was tacky and stuck to her.  
  
He turned to her, gold eyes staring at her celadon ones. “Pardon me for entering without permission, Miss Tojo. I just couldn’t help but examine your lab out of all the ones that opened up. The detail is so meticulous and fine, the architecture is remarkable, I simply couldn’t help myself.”  
  
She shook her head in response to him. “Worry not, I do not mind one bit, feel free to look around all you’d like, Shinguji. While you’re here, may I offer you anything? Tea, snacks?”  
  
At the end of the day, she was still a maid.  
  
“Why, yes. I will take you up on your offer, Miss Tojo.” He took a seat, before removing his hat. She found it quite humorous that he removed his hat every time he ate or drank. It was a tradition back in the nineteen-hundreds that truly no one followed anymore, but it seemed as if Shinguji stuck to such tradition. He intrigued her.  
  
“Earl Grey, as usual?” He nodded. She left towards the small kitchen that was built within her laboratory, which was incredibly convenient, for no more than five minutes before coming out with a small tray of Earl Grey, cream and sugar, and little snacks that were meticulously picked for the type of tea he liked. With her amazing posture and calming stature, she pushed the stainless steel cart towards the table at the end that he sat at, before promptly serving him as any maid would.  
  
“Thank you, Miss Tojo,” he said after she set down his tea, unzipping his mask so that he could enjoy the beverage. She never did question why he had a mask on, even for eating. Because the mask wasn’t something that made up Shinguji alone. There was so much more that she wished to know instead of the mask. “Would you care to join me? If you are not busy, however.”  


Technically, she wasn’t. Everyone was looking at their labs or looking around on the new floor. She would consider this her break, though she did hate days off. However, spending time with Shinguji didn’t repulse her with that in mind, that she would be technically be taking some time off of her job.  
  
In the end, she decided to join him. It would be rude to deny him so, even if she was busy, which clearly she was not.  
  
She sat down, pulling her dress underneath her before sitting properly at the end of the table, near the anthropologist so they weren’t too close nor far away, and could see each other perfectly.  
  
After pouring herself a glass—she actually did like Earl Grey herself—he spoke, meticulously breaking the flaky scones she had prepared.  
  
“Miss Tojo, I must say I admire your passion for your talent. I’ve been to many parts of the world, studying the culture and their version of maids and servants alike. But I have never met one nearly as dutiful and dedicated as you on any of my travels,” he began, before pausing due to unzipping his mask and pushing the broken scone piece into his mouth. For some reason, though she had heard those compliments many times before from her previous masters, hearing them from his voice seemed to mean that much more. She chuckled lightly, before taking a sip of her beverage.  
  
“But of course. I put my heart into my work, because I believe that the man who loves his job does not have to work a day in his life. I am the same, there is no point not effort into my work if my soul is not in it. Wouldn’t you agree?”  
  
He nodded, eyes closing. When he closed his gold eyes, she could notice how long his eyelashes were. Though he was quite effeminate, he was incredibly... pretty? Unlike most men she had met with long hair, his was silky and looked incredibly soft and well-taken care of. If he ever asked her to help brush his hair, she’d not only do so without hesitation, but also take off her gloves just so she could run her fingers through such gorgeous locks. Tojo kept her hair relatively short because long hair, in her experience, was incredibly inconvenient, even if you tied it up. Her headband just worked a lot better for her type of profession.  
  
“Indeed, Miss Tojo,” he responded, “I could not have worded it better myself.”

  
They continued to have idle chatter until the sun went down, and a certain Supreme Leader had plans for everyone the following night.


	2. .ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She never would have expected them to share an intimate moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter/Trial 2 spoilers. Also shameless romance.

Tojo Kirumi was indeed a talented maid who had done a lot of arduous and tedious tasks as if they were nothing.  
  
However, until now she had never murdered someone.  
  
His name was Hoshi Ryoma, the Ultimate Tennis Player. And she had murdered him in cold blood, all because the weight of her country depended on her. And it was the lives of many against the life of one, the odds were truly... odds. Though she did indeed feel bad for doing so, she had to see to it that her country prevailed, especially since their fate was entirely on her shoulders. They picked the best maid in the world to come and assist them in a war, and she would be a disgrace to all maids if she did not carry out her duties.  
  
Though she felt bad and wished she could apologize to him, she knew that he damn well could not hear her. And even if he could he had every reason not to listen to her.  
  
She sighed as she disposed of all of the evidence that she could, save for her gloves that landed in the water. There was no way to retrieve those, which was troublesome. But perhaps she would do some cleaning to help ease her mind. She found that she couldn’t sleep as she was rattled with guilt. Which made sense, she had just drowned another human being. She silently made her way towards the second floor and into her lab. Though everything was noticeably spick and span even with the dim lighting of the room, she put herself to cleaning more. After grabbing a cloth and wood shine, she worked on her table, wiping the surface yet again as she needed a distraction, just something to take her mind off of Hoshi.  
  
She was so caught up in wiping an already clean table that she hadn’t noticed the certain anthropologist that entered.  
  
“Miss Tojo?” She jumped when he spoke. Did he know? Did he see her leave the pool room, and come to the second floor? Taking a deep breath, she turned around, standing upright as she faced him.  


“You gave me a fright, Shinguji,” she chuckled slightly. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“I found that I could not sleep, so I decided to walk around and I couldn’t help but notice that someone was inside the building. I had a feeling it was you, and it seems I was correct.” Good, it looked as if he knew nothing. She was going to keep it that way. “What are you doing up at this hour?”  


What was she doing? That was indeed a valid question. “Oh, I had the same issue of not being able to sleep. So I thought that cleaning might help me grow sleepy, as I’m up at six in the morning to prepare breakfast.” He seemed to believe that, and nodded gently.  


“I see,” was his quiet response. “Although, I’d recommend turning on a light if you want to clean more efficiently.” He was not incorrect in that aspect, either. But she wasn’t looking to clean efficiently, she was looking to get the fact off of her mind that she murdered someone. Shinguji seemed like someone who could keep his composure if he committed the most heinous of crimes. His next question surprised her, however. “May I join you?”  


There was no reason for him not to join her. There was no reason she had to decline him. So she simple nodded in response. “I do not mind, make yourself at home. May I prepare you some tea? Snacks?” He shook his head, but he did sit down in one of the chairs in her laboratory. He removed his hat with svelte, gloved fingers, setting it upon the polished mahogany table. His hair was truly something else. Shiny, but not at all greasy, and looked well-taken care of with how silky his raven strands shined in the dim moonlight.  


She had half a mind to begin braiding it, run her fingers through the smooth keratin. She didn’t even realize she asked until the entire question escaped her lips. “May I style your hair, Shinguji?”  


Before she could die of embarrassment, he responded, evidently amused. “Is there something wrong with it, Miss Tojo?” She shook her head immediately.  


“Absolutely not, no, it’s fine. Quite perfect, actually. I only ask because your hair looks incredibly soft, and well-taken care of. Forgive me, that was out of place.”  


Shinguji chuckled at her honesty. “Is that so, Miss Tojo? Very well, then. I see no harm in it.” She was surprised he agreed, he even got up and sat with his back facing her with the moonlight hitting it, granting her access to his hair. Tojo removed her black gloves, before carefully running her fingers through it first. It was just as smooth and soft as it looked.  


From what she could tell without seeing his mouth, he looked quite pleased with having his hair played with. She ran her fingers throughout it gently, any minor tangling she may have found sifted away with her gentle strokes. His eyes shut closed, and she could see just how long and feminine those eyelashes were. She wished she had a brush of sorts, but her fingers made a splendid impromptu one. His hair was beautiful, and so pleasingly silky. Tojo could stand there all day and run her bare fingers throughout the keratin strands.  


“Your hair truly is quite lovely, Shinguji,” she murmured, albeit it was quiet the room was silent enough for him to clearly hear it. “It suits you.”  


“You flatter me too much, Miss Tojo. But thank you, I do appreciate it.” They stood there in silence, before she finally stopped, stepping away from him. “Thank you, Shinguji.”  


He gets up, but discards his hat momentarily. He does something that surprises her, and that is pulling down the mask he wore around half of his face.  


He is even more beautiful than she imagined.  


His gold eyes shine brightly in the dimmed room, pale skin reflecting the moonlight. His lips are full, but just perfect enough for his slim face and sharp jawline. His nose curves inwardly, it isn’t too long or stout, it is a perfect feature to adorn his face. His flaws are infinitesimal. “Shinguji?”  


He doesn’t say anything. He simply lets the garment hang from his neck, approaching her, and she cannot help but go near him as well. Her hand is on his waist, free one gently grasping at his forearm. His bandaged hands come up behind her, raising her head up with one on her nape. His separate hand pulls her closer by the small of her back.  


Tojo does not mind this at all.  


He leans down, and she cannot do anything else but finish the rest of the journey, pushing their lips together in a gentle, yet passionate manner. Their mouths never opened, but the contact of their lips was sensual, and Tojo couldn’t find it in herself to complain. He is beautiful. He is perfect.  


She has to say goodbye soon.  


The thought is enough to have her pull away, though she wishes she didn’t part from his velvety-like lips. Kissing him made everything wrong seem right. Kissing him made her feel things she’d never felt. And now she had to say goodbye. It was surreal. And painful. Like a wave crashing down on you, the shock is there before the pain is.  


“Well.. I better get going, Miss Tojo. Farewell.” She was almost thankful he didn’t say anything beyond that, simply lifting his mask again and putting his hat back upon his head. “Goodbye, Shinguji. I will see you for breakfast.”  


But when would be the last time she truly saw him?


	3. .iii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He never would have expected her to be that type.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember, this fic does include spoilers, and this chapter includes heavy spoilers for Chapter 2 Of DanganRonpa V3. If you haven’t played it or made it that far, please go back.

Tojo Kirumi, the Ultimate Maid, has been found guilty.  


It all started when Yumeno and Yonaga’s magic show revealed the corpse of Hoshi, and by that point he had already been dead even before the piranha’s ate his flesh. No one would have expected for the kind and dutiful maid, Tojo Kirumi, to be behind it all.  


The beauty of humanity was utterly endless.  


The investigation started. And mostly everyone had their alibis cleared— Gokuhara, Saihara, Tsumugi, Yonaga, Chabashira, Yumeno, K1-B0, and of course, Shinguji himself. He wasn’t sure if Ouma counted, as he ran out from them after awhile.  


But even the elusive Harukawa, boisterous Momota, and troublemaking Ouma had their alibis cleared, once Saihara dug deeply into the investigation. Shinguji loved to observe everyone at work, it was stuff like this that he loved to research, to simply just view. To watch, to see how different cultures treated corpses and death itself. It was widely taboo in some places, but in others it was as normal as breathing. Stuff like that enraptured Shinguji’s interest, and of course so did folklore and origin stories. And while he did contribute to the investigation, he spent most of his time observing whatever he could. He could not get enough of the beauty of humanity, the absolute interest, the niches and subtle details of every culture, he loved it all. And this environment was definitely no exception to his interest.  


Soon their investigation time was up, and they all went to the hall of truth, and took their respective places. The investigation went on for quite awhile, and since it was quite late when they had finished, he noticed how some people grew somewhat tired throughout the trial. He did not, however. Though, even if he had he doubted anyone would be able to noticed, everything but his eyes were covered by his outfit.   


Bit by bit, they were able to piece together the whole picture of Hoshi Ryoma’s death. It turned out that Yumeno and Yonaga were indeed innocent, and it was in fact Tojo that committed the murder of Hoshi. Had it not been for her black gloves that were stuck in the pool, she would have been innocent, and no one would be the wiser.  


It is indeed a tragic day for humanity. A tragically beautiful day.  


Saihara continues to pin the evidence on her. She keeps trying to deny it. Her eyes and expression become increasingly vexed, angered, and fearful of her fate. It is time that they all vote, as as much as it pains Shinguji, he votes for her. He wished that he had caught her before she murdered Hoshi, perhaps, maybe just perhaps, he could have prevented it.  


She has fallen from grace. It is only imminent minutes that remain of her life. She is in tears, something that he thought he’d never see in her life. It is a painful thing to see. She explains why, why she took the life of another. Her motive video contained an entire country at war, said country having called upon the best maid in the world to assist them. She would be a dishonorable maid to refuse that request, to think about it would be utter sacrilege. It was the lives of thirteen participants... against millions. It was understandable for her to be in that position, to see the steep odds and being faced with a choice. It made Shinguji all too thankful that he did not see his motive video.  


Especially after he learns how sad Hoshi’s was—having absolutely no one to live for.  


Before her inevitable death, she looks at him, through her tears. And he is not sure how to decipher that look, he had never seen something so ethereal, and yet tragic. He wants to say something, go to her, try to comfort her. It feels like they’ve all made a grave mistaken choosing her.  


But nothing could be done. Shinguji understood that well. The last memories he had with Tojo, excluding this, were at least happy. He hopes she shares his same sentiments.  


Suddenly she is running. She refuses to face execution, and it is too late to stop himself when he yells out, “run! Run, and get out of here!”  


Unfortunately, that is futile. He knows this, Monokuma catches her in her execution frame. And a tragic execution it is, indeed.  


She is being bombarded with requests, so many it is overwhelming. A spiny vine cascades from the ceiling, and despite the thorns she grasps it, climbing up on it to escape the demanding crowd. Her next obstacle are a bunch of sharp blades, spinning and threatening to slice her skin open.  


The determination upon her face is nothing less than exquisite.  


She continues to climb the thorny vine, her clothes and skin being whittled down to fascia and bone, near the point of evisceration. Her clothes are no more, revealing her undergarments, fuchsia blood dripping from all of her wounds. It is a miracle she has the strength to continue up the tortorous vine.  


What happens next is a cruel man’s joke.  


Just as she sees a light, just as she sees a hope of escape, the light dies. And in its wake, a child’s drawing of a sun and sky is in its place. A rudimentary, jejune, cruel child’s painting. The vine snaps, but just before she falls, there is the haunting expression of horror she gives, realizing that this game was not meant to bring hope. It was a despairing game. Her expression lasted ephemerally, but he would not soon forget it.  


Her execution ends with with her falling, lacerations leaking blood, exposed body bringing shame and humiliation and degradation. A maid fallen from grace.  


It is a quiet trial room after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More or less just some angst. This chapter made me incredibly sad, seeing as Tojo is one of my favorite characters in V3.


	4. .iv

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He never would have expected for her to have this effect on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains major spoilers for Chapter 3 of DanganRonpa V3.

The effect she had on him was absolutely maddening.  
  
He didn't think he'd find himself missing her like this. He frequently visited her lab, simply indulging within it. It was still as beautiful as ever even when she was dead and gone. The baroque designs of it all, the intricate furniture and trinkets, the vivid Victorian-era colors and designs, all of it remained unchanged and untouched. Everything was still as exquisite as he had remembered it.  
  
Suddenly, there was someone else he wanted to live for. And it was not his late sister.  
  
His behavior became a little more erratic, seeing as he did not interact with others. Partially that was fault of the new "Student Committee" created by Yonaga. They acted, well, more as a cult than an actual student committee. So he definitely steered clear of Yonaga, Gokuhara, Shirogane, K1-B0, and Yumeno. That was five people already he wouldn't willingly interact with. There was Chabashira, however she seemed to have some sort of undying hatred for men, so he couldn't really interact with her without risking being called a degenerate. Harukawa and Momota did not seem to fancy him, especially Momota. He always had something to say about his appearance, anyway, so Shinguji didn't talk to him unless he spoke to him first. Iruma was the only person he actually didn't like, given how unlikable she was. And Saihara, though sometimes he did speak to him willingly, simply decided to limit their interactions.  
  
He had other plans, anyway.  
  
Their next motive involved something called the Necronomicon, and supposedly it was a magical book that would revive one dead student.  
  
Had it not been taken from them immediately by Yonaga, he would have used it to bring back Tojo. Of course it was probably futile, seeing as how Monokuma and his equally as sadistic children loved to toy around with them all. There was no way some bloody book could bring back the dead. There were always beliefs in other cultures about respecting the dead, comforting them even after passing. But no culture ever believed you could bring them back from the dead. And there was no way that Shinguji would actually believe that this book could bring someone back. The day he ever believed that was the day he acknowledged Yonaga's deity as real.  
  
Which by the way, wasn't.

* * *

Why was sawing boards so difficult? He didn't understand it. Even before he was interrupted by Yonaga he was having difficulty. Like seriously, making the fake locked room scenario in her art studio was much easier than sawing these old boards. Even tying up the effigies in her studio was easier than sawing these boards. Granted, he was using a saw that had never seen a day of cleaning in its lifetime, but still. The hard oak was difficult to saw off, especially because he had to do it three times. Alas, he finally did. Black leather boot steps upon it and puts just the tiniest bit of pressure on it.  
  
It functioned much like a seesaw, with its fulcrum being the wood support beneath it that held it up. Perfect.  
  
Though initially for his late sister whom he loved dearly, it was also for Tojo. Not like he'd admit it, there was already a cover up story. The anthropologist sighs, his work having been done at least for now.  
  
Morning came and went, the Monokuma announcement played as they discovered the corpse of Yonaga Angie. Of course, he feigned surprise. He did it. But they didn't need to know that. The little mage girl, Yumeno, was distraught by the death of her friend. He thinks, why not kill two birds with one stone? It wasn't like she was particularly pleasant to be around.  
  
They all attempt to commence a seance, something that Shinguji suggested they do to speak to Yonaga. And while he had conducted many seances before, he had no plans to do so this time. It was just another way for the anthropologist to use the seesaw effect he had created. After all, it would be a waste if he didn't use it like he had initially planned.  
  
They sing the song of the dog, once Chabashira makes her way underneath the cage. Well, she wasn't pleasant to be around, either. But it didn't really matter, at least for now it didn't. They sing the song, and he stomps on the board he compromised, killing the girl inside.  
  
The chant ended, and it had of course failed. The medium they had planned to use was dead. So now there were two corpses to identify a killer for. What fun, observing how everyone reacted to two murders.  
  
At the end of the day, humanity was still so beautiful.

* * *

 

He was utterly convicted. But at the very least, he gave them a hard challenge to figure out. He could have won the killing game if he had decided to not murder Chabashira, as there was no evidence to convict him specifically for it. But he was convicted for the murder of Chabashira Tenko and Yonaga Angie.  
  
His death is painful in both life and the afterlife.  
  
He is first spun what felt like a thousand times, until he nearly feels as if his guts will spill out of him from dizziness. Then he is thrown in a pot of boiling water, until he quite literally melts within the concoction. His spirit ascends from the cauldron, and he thinks he is reunited with his dead sister. Until Monokuma, dressed as an exorcist, begins throwing holy salt at him, as well as the imposter wraith of his sister. He melts a second time, truly ending his life as if it was nothing.  
  
Was it still worth it? To see Tojo Kirumi?   
  
Shinguji certainly thinks so.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think I would make this as long as it is, for I thought that it would simply be a standalone fic. Crazy what motivation can do to you.
> 
> I have some plans for where this is going to go, seeing as I got inspired. 
> 
> By the way, you should definitely have completed the game by the next or one after that. Spoiler heavy, I reiterate again.


	5. .v

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They never would have expected to meet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, even though I've said it multiple times, there are MAJOR spoilers for DRV3. And right now, I'm about to spoil the end game. Read at your own risk.
> 
> In the final trial, Tsumugi is revealed to be the Mastermind, and she reveals that DanganRonpa is a game, essentially breaking the fourth wall if you will. She shows audition clips of Akamatsu, Saihara, and Momota, and their pre-game personalities were completely different than the ones shown in game. Akamatsu has no faith in humanity, Saihara is evil, and Momota is completely sadistic.
> 
> Thus, knowing that our cast are in a virtual game that we play (yes, she mocks us by showing how much the real world, i.e. us, love the killing games.), the fandom has headcanoned what the pregame personalities of the other members that weren't shown are.
> 
> I envision Tojo to be shy, reserved, and clumsy, unlike how astute and elegant she is in-game. Shinguji was a little trickier for me, however I see him as someone who doesn't necessarily hate humanity, but he does not love it like his killing game self does. He's antisocial, and doesn't care about others in the way his other self does.
> 
> I say this just so there's not, I suppose, confusion.

Dying in the killing game hurt. Reawakening, not so much. She just felt incredibly lost if anything, like she had just woken up from a nightmare. On one hand, at least she knew that the nation she had to save was fabricated. On another, she was back to her old self. The Tojo Kirumi that flinched at every little thing, and could hardly talk to others without stuttering or growing anxious.  
  
There was a side to every coin, wasn't there?  
  
Rewinding her audition tape was surreal, in a way. Not in a good way, she hated looking at herself like that. She begged to be in the killing games, she didn't care what role either. She simply wanted to be apart of them, even if she was killed or not. How  _desperate_ , how utterly  _disgraceful_ and  _disgusting_. She absolutely  _despised_ how she begged and pleaded on tape.   
  
She misses her old self. The Tojo that was calm and astute, and was graceful through and through in her actions and personality. Why couldn't that have translated to her real body? She didn't understand. She didn't want to continue living the way she was used to living- shy, scared, and alone.  
  
She also misses Shinguji.  
  
But he probably doesn't miss her. He isn't a part of the killing game, anymore. And even if he was, he was in love with the maid persona that had been made for her. Once he awoke, he wouldn't be the same Shinguji she knew. The intelligent, polite, and oh so intriguing Shinguji that she fell in love with during the killing game.  
  
She misses him dearly.

* * *

School wasn't much different, to her surprise. The students of Milky Way High School were still invested heavily into the killing game, and hardly questioned the one girl who actually played through it. She wasn't very popular, to be fair. She was much too shy to be popular, she instead stuck to the shadows where she couldn't be ridiculed, where she couldn't be scared.  
  
Not like it mattered much, anyway. She was too busy picking at her celadon skirt to pay attention to the rumors she heard run amok around her.

* * *

School finally ended, at the same time it usually did. She still remembered her old routine, surprisingly enough. Muscle memory was no joke, it seemed. She collects her stuff, neatly tucking them away in her school bag, and quietly leaves her classroom, and eventually campus. She wasn't too far behind in terms of work, so she figured she'd spent her evening simply catching up and doing the homework she missed while comatose.  
  
Her home life is quite boring. She has two little siblings, both girls, and an older brother who is two years her senior. But she doesn't talk to any of them, and their mother simply didn't care enough to give her a warm welcome. It was like Tojo hadn't even been gone. Her presence was still widely ignored, even by the people she was supposed to consider family.  
  
Her mind wanders to Shinguji's well-being. How was he faring? She didn't get a chance to watch his audition tape. She wasn't even sure what school he attended. And that, that was incredibly frustrating. Did he even live in the area? Or did he live so far away that even if she knew, she couldn't reach him. She thought about looking him up online, but she wasn't sure if she would even get results. Or even the same Shinguji Korekiyo she knew and loved.  
  
It didn't matter whether he was in the killing game or in the real world. Her feelings for him were real, as a maid or not.  
  
The gray-haired girl decides to finish up her studies and homework, because that was much easier than having to deal with the pain of longing for someone you can't have.

* * *

Another murder had occurred after Shinguji's. It was Iruma Miu. She felt bad, because albeit unpleasant, Iruma wasn't a bad person. She was still a person, and she didn't do anything to deserve that brutal death.  
  
But she was too crestfallen to worry about the killing game. As a matter of fact, she had absolutely no interest in them anymore. Going through that, and then suffering the loss of a loved one, she couldn't. It all meant  _nothing_ to her. Shinguji was gone forever, and that hurt the most.   
  
Tojo sighs. Her life is quite dull, and it seemed she would have to live that out until she graduated and got into university, and got into a career she'd despise.  
  
How  _dull_.

 

 


	6. .vi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He never would have expected to catch a glimpse of her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being late with this, my motivation has been a little spotty. But I'm finally back from my little rut, and thus here this is. 
> 
> Please comment, leave kudos! It really does make my day, and it does motivate me further as a budding author.
> 
> Also, Shinguji's sister does not have a confirmed name, so I just chose something that started with a K at random. Enjoy Kazusa Shinguji.

It was utterly disgusting, how he had been portrayed in the killing games, as some incestuous pervert who was in love with his sister. It was simply..  _vile_ , to even think about. It made Shinguji want to puke, retch up everything he had for breakfast that day. The most exhausting part about it was that once he woke up after having been executed, it took a full evening of convincing and reassurance from Shinguji that he was not attracted to his sister in any way, shape, or form. Then it took the whole night for the both of them to convince that they had never done anything incestuous with each other. Truth be told, the two of them were not even very close to each other. Shinguji acknowledged Kazusa everyday with a simple hello or a good morning, but Kazusa Shinguji and Korekiyo Shinguji were not close, and not at all a good example of familial love. And neither of them seemed quite bothered by that. She had her own life, and he had his.  
  
Much like Tojo, falling back into his routine was not at all difficult. Shinguji suffered from neutropenia, an autoimmune disease classified by an abnormally low amount of neutrophils in his body. As a result, he got sick easily as there weren't enough leukocytes to fight off bacterial and viral infections. To assist with not getting sick so often, he wore a facial mask that covered his mouth and nose. He still got sick, but it wasn't as bad as it usually would be if he lived a normal life without it. He had to take a lot of precautionary steps to prevent him from getting sick, but it was simply just habit and a part of his daily routine. He even practiced said steps at school, which was surprisingly very hindering on his ability to make friends.  
  
Not like he cared. Shinguji was satisfied having none. And he certainly wasn't interested in friendship with people who only wanted to interact with him based on his participation in the infamous killing games. He didn't even like them that much to begin with, he only sent in an audition tape due to pressure from Kazusa, and well, his family. Kazusa sent one in, and she told Shinguji that he should as well, so that there would be a higher chance of a Shinguji being chosen to be in this season of the killing game. He only sent one in to get her off of his back, as well as the rest of his family. But he never thought that he'd actually be accepted. And oh, if he rejected that offer his family would never shut up about it.  
  
The only good part about his persona in the game was how intelligent he was. He even managed to figure out who the mastermind was in just the first trial. Unfortunately he was way too creepy to have been listened to, and have been taken seriously.  
  
Honestly, why did they have to base this creepy, incestuous pervert as his character just due to the fact that he wore a mask in his audition tape? It felt insulting, really. He wore it to avoid diseases, not because he enjoyed making love to his fucking sister.  
  
And was it an even bigger pain to clear up the rumors that he stalked his sister and had erotic thoughts about her during his school hours. It was difficult enough having to convince his parents, why the hell should he have had to explain the same exhausting thing to people he couldn't give less of a shit about? They only payed attention to him because he was chosen for the 53rd season, and because he was a "siscon".  
  
School was exhausting. And it sucked that he wasn't even sure where Tojo could be. Of course she was in the region of Japan, but Japan was too big, too broad a search. If there was anyone he actually, genuinely liked, it was her. And even though he knew her personality was bound to be different, he couldn't help but let his mind drift to her, wonder where she was, and how she was doing.  
  
Unlike his stupid in-game persona that he did not ask for, he really didn't give a rat's ass about humanity, or anthropology for that matter. He didn't necessarily hate humanity, he wasn't misanthropic. More or less just somewhat cynical, and easily irritated by stupidity and redundancy. She.. She didn't make him feel disgusted, or annoyed.  
  
He just wanted to see her. What school did she go to? He had the same urge to be with her in real life, just as he did in the games.  
  
What a pain.

* * *

Shinguji tried to avoid the subway at all costs. It was stuffy, crowded, full of sick people and germs, and overall not a place where he should be.  
  
But walking home in the rain wasn't going to do, either. Being wet for that long was a guarantee for a neutropenic fever, and those were an unnecessary pain to deal with. So he decided to waste some time first at the underground book shop. This particular subway station had an underground mall, where he could kill time at without being in the cool monsoon. There was a small bookstore he liked to go to, where he'd rather wait there than deal with the wave of students and adults who just got off of school and or work that tried to take the first subway available.  
  
If he had no choice but to take the stupid subway, he may as well wait to board a relatively empty one. At least he had a pass on him, his family made everyone get one so that they didn't have to worry about carrying spare change just to enter and get dropped off. At least he could use the spare change he did have to purchase a book or something. That was another thing he and the in-game Shinguji had in common, they both loved to read. Of course different books given how different they were in terms of personality, but a book was a book at the end of the day. He had his own private library back at home, which was all sitting on an old, ebony bookshelf that had to be nailed to the wall because it got so heavy with books, it became a hazard. He had many genres, anything from horror to romance. He really loved nonfiction, however, and spent a lot of time looking for nonfictional books he think he'd enjoy. In his library, he has read every single book within it, some more than twice.  
  
So that's what he did. He quietly waited for the subway to makes its rounds before returning, with empty seats and not nearly as many people boarding. He found a good collection of books he figured he might like, and sat down while reading one. This was an acceptable way of killing time, he wasn't harming anyone, and no risk was present for him health-wise.

* * *

An hour had passed since the 2:15 subway, so he paid for one of the books that he liked, and quietly boarded the subway. Like he suspected, there weren't nearly as many people boarding the subway, so he was able to find a place to sit down, and once the doors had closed he had enough room to set his bag on the other seat as no one asked him if they could sit with him. Which he was thankful for, it made life much easier.  
  
He opened up the book that he had just recently purchased, intent on reading the rest of it before he got home. And while he was completely invested in the book back when he was at the bookstore sitting down, he had a much more difficult tine concentrating on the words on the pages. He couldn't help but feel like there was something.. odd about this subway. Not necessarily that it was malfunctioning or breaking down, he was just feeling like something really was off about the atmosphere. Like, there was a familiarity to it, and not in the way that he was getting nostalgia from riding it. It was like there was something on this train that he needed to see.  
  
It wasn't crowded or anything, but it sure was annoying with all of the people around him. It would have been worse in the afternoon when he got out of school, all those people surrounding him, stood up, with all the seats having been taken. It would have been a nightmare.  
  
Shinguji looked around briefly. He didn't see anything that was worthy his eye being caught onto, so he simply shrugged and sat down on an empty seat. He took out the book he had purchased earlier and began to read it as the trains made their stops. He bought a book about the language of murder, and evil women in the past.  
  
A book befitting for the characters of Tojo's first name.

* * *

It isn't necessarily that Shinguji lives very far. There's simply only many stops the train must make along the way. But he does not mind, being at home for him is boring. He does not speak very often with Kazusa, and his parents are always working when he is home. He does nothing but read and study and do homework at home, for he has no interest in other relationships, and school is the only thing that keeps him the slightest bit motivated.  
  
But before he leaves the station, he catches a glimpse of silvery, platinum hair. With a hint of muted celadon.  
  
He sees her in the window just before he leaves, and he is tempted to go back in to see her. How could he have missed her? But the doors close on him, and the train quickly starts again to go to its next stop. He hopes she at least saw him, perhaps she'd get back on the same subway as him so that they could reunite again. That is, if she wanted to. He hopes so at least.  
  
Because while his character may not have been real, his feelings for her were absolutely genuine.

 


	7. .vii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She never would have expected to meet him again.

She knows she's not crazy.  
  
That was definitely him, correct? No one else she had ever seen had long, sleek black hair, on top of being lanky. She only wishes,  _wishes_ , that she caught a glimpse of his face, for then she'd confirm whether or not that was Shinguji.  _Her_ Shinguji. And she only wishes that she had been able to have seen him sooner, for she would hope that he was as interested in her as she was in him. It was painful how much she adored him.  
  
Which why her having somehow missed him in the subway made it all the more painful. She knew next to nothing about the Shinguji of this world, let alone where he went to school or where he lived. She had the opportunity in her hands, and she just let it slip through her fingers.  
  
She was hoping he at least saw her, maybe they could take the same bus together. And actually see each other. Of course.. If he  _wanted_ to, that is. She still knew nothing about him, whether or not he cared to find her, or meet up with her. But she could still use the closure, she wasn't sure her feeble heart would be able to take never knowing. Even the Tojo of the real world was aware of that fact.

* * *

The next day, she hardly focuses. There had been a rumor about a transfer student, and she had the slightest hope that maybe,  _maybe_ , it was Shinguji. But no, it unfortunately wasn't. It wasn't even one of the students she was acting alongside with in the game, just some foreign exchange student from America. It made her sigh, and she focused her attention to the window. That combined with thinking was much more interesting than the literature lecture that her teacher was currently giving. Something about the Kojiki book, or something to that sort. Regardless, she wasn't interested, and she was getting antsy for the bell to ring, and for the class to be dismissed. Even if he wasn't there, she just had to make sure that she wouldn't miss another opportunity.  
  
She wasn't sure she could take that, either.  
  
Her last class was mathematics, to which she hardly payed attention to that as well. Not necessarily because it was hard for her, but just because there was a lot on her mind already that she didn't have any mental space to process more information. Before she left, she took a quick detour to the bathroom to fix herself up. Mostly her hair, that covered half her face anyway, but nonetheless she straightened out her bangs and smoothed out her skirt. A few girls in the same restroom she was in looked at her funnily, like she had something stuck to her, or something that made her look weird.  
  
"Isn't that the girl who was in the killing games?" One said to another. She was tall, with long legs and brunette hair. In fact, she was quite pretty.  
  
"Yeah, she was the Ultimate Maid. Don't you remember?" The girl with black hair responded.  
  
"Right, I couldn't really remember since she was all graceful and proper. This girl seems like a total klutz, not at all like the chick in the game." That comment made her look up from the sink, giving the both of them a solemn yet stern look, like she heard exactly what they said, and every word of it as well. The girl with black hair elbowed the other one, whispering that she had heard them. The blonde one shrugged, and Tojo didn't stick around to hear the rest of it for she grabbed her things and left the bathroom immediately. But she was right, Tojo was nothing like her graceful, calm persona. She was easily intimidated, and yes, a little bit of a scatterbrained klutz. But it still.. slightly stung to hear that from someone else. Like sure, she knew. But that didn't mean they had to say it out loud.  
  
She sighed. Maybe she was overthinking it too much. She didn't know them, and they didn't know the real Tojo that well either. It was best not to think about them, because she could still look forward to seeing Shinguji. Or well, maybe seeing him. She hoped, anyway.  
  
She just needed to see him, again. Even if it was her last time.

* * *

She gets to the same station she was at, and she remembers the stop he got off on. So she quickly takes the earliest possible train and gets there. She does not see him, but he hopes that he takes the same train from yesterday, the 3:15 one. And she waits.  
  
She had made herself comfortable on a vacant seat, quietly waiting for someone that could possibly want nothing to do with her. But she waits anyway, and it is an excruciating hour before the stop from that time finally makes it. The doors open and she feels her heart slowly creeping upwards into her throat. But she swallows the feeling away, keeping vigilant eyes out for the tall man with sleek black hair. She doesn't immediately see him, there are many people who are getting off at this stop. But she continues to wait hopefully, for him to show up.  
  
When the last person that gets out isn't him, her heart sinks a little. Maybe she was being a little too hopeful, but she really wanted to see him. She decides to catch the door before it closes on her, she may as well go home, now.  
  
But she is stopped by one last person getting off, accidentally having bumped into them. God, she was a little ditzy for sure, but at least she was polite enough to apologize. And she is about to, the words are even leaving her throat. "Ah, I apologize, I wasn't looking where I was going..."  
  
Once her head tilts up, the words died in her throat immediately.  
  
It's Shinguji. Her Shinguji. He is even wearing a mask, it's  _her_ Shinguji and she nearly cries of happiness at seeing him. She isn't sure what to do, but he's getting out at this stop as well, taking her with him. They are close, a little too close it's too much so for comfort. But because it is him, she does not mind. She is so ecstatic to see him, she does not know how to formulate words. He looks down at her, with those beautiful golden eyes of his, and reaches out to gently cup her cheek. They say nothing, and her body dares not move for his hand is soft and comforting and warm against her skin.  
  
"It's you," he begins. His voice is the exact same as it was in the games. "It's really you." A shaky hand reaches out to grab his wrist gently, pressing his palm further in her face. She doesn't care how hot he feels. It's him, and that's all that matters.  
  
"I'm so glad I've found you."

 

 


	8. .viii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They never would have expected it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This does mark the end of this little fic, surprisingly enough since I never finish shit. This was originally going to be only 7 chapters, buuut things change and so there's 8 of them. Be warned, this one has, pretty vague, NSFW. Figured I should warn about that.
> 
> I hope you enjoy. Kudos and comments are highly appreciated.

They began to spend a lot of time together after being able to finally meet each other at the subway station. And while Shinguji knew that she was going to be different than before, he had not been expecting that for certain. Yes, she was a little clumsy, a little shy, quite reserved, but he found himself not minding it at all. Granted, he really wasn't the same person that she had meet in the fifty-third season of that damned killing game. But besides all of that, there were still some remnants left of her original personality, and that was enough for him.  
  
They started out as friends, riding the subway together and visiting a location to eat at after school. Mostly things like cafés and fast food joints, but either way the two found ways to enjoy themselves. Even if they were both relatively quiet people, just being in each other's presence after so long was enough for them. Though Tojo did find herself speaking quite a bit more than normal around him, and he simply listened intently to her blabber. He'd learn that she tried so far to replicate the kind of person she was in the killing games—graceful, calm, kind, but austere when needed, and adept at virtually anything. He'd learn that her family practically ignored her, they’d never ask how her day went, or how she’d been as of late. When she woke up, there were no acknowledgements that they were happy she was back. Just nothing that would indicate that they even knew she was there. Whereas with Shinguji, his family hardly saw him as a human, but rather, an object. He was pestered to send in an audition tape just so that a Shinguji would have a chance to be featured in the 53rd season, they did not at all care about his emotions, or how he may have felt about the situation. It was just, "Korekiyo, send in your audition tape!", "Korekiyo, have you sent in your audition tape already?", "Korekiyo, make an audition tape and send it in this instant." It stopped being a request pretty quickly, and turned into an order. Both of them were mistreated by their families, people that were supposed to care and support them. But they didn't. In the end, all they really had was each other's presence, each other's company. And that was enough.  
  
Going to food joints and coffees shops weren't enough anymore. Shinguji would find himself walking her home more often than not, seeing as they took the subway together. The first thing she'd learn about him was that he did not wear lipstick behind the face mask he wore. She found out that he had neutropenia, and got sick easily, so to prevent that, he wore the mask to keep out diseases that would easily make him sick. It was simple really, even a fool could understand that. Another thing that she'd learn about him was that, unsurprisingly, he and his sister were not engaged in any incestuous activity unlike his in-game persona implied. In fact, it couldn't be further from the truth. He knew nearly nothing about Kazusa, as a matter of fact, he didn't even know how old she was. He knew she was older than him, but by how much? He couldn't answer that. All they ever said was hello, or good morning to each other. There were no further interactions, not even a good night or how was your day. He wasn't really bothered by that fact, he was more content reading in his room, or now, spending time with Tojo. With all the time he was spending away from home, perhaps one of his family members would wonder where he was, or what he was up to. But no. Even when he returned at ten or another absurd hour of the day, there was no "where were you?", or "what have you been up to?"   
  
Perhaps that was one upside of having parents who didn't care, and a sister who minded her own business. He could do pretty much whatever he wanted, and he would not be punished by them.  
  
He tested out this theory by inviting her over to his place. His parents were workaholics, and were hardly ever home. And since Tojo's family never acknowledged her presence to begin with, it was easy for her to be deviant and go under the radar as well. They didn't do anything inappropriate, which most teenagers their age would take advantage of. But they didn't. They were content sitting on his bed, in his neat room, talking for hours and hours about the things they either loved or hated. Tojo loved kittens, but hated lavender as it gave her severe allergic reactions, on top of the fact that she didn't think it smelled good. Shinguji loved tidiness, but despised anything that was lemon scented, he found it overwhelming and unnecessary. It was interesting, to them both, to learn about the many complexities about each other. How she loved the color red but would faint at the sight of blood, how he loved history but could not stomach reading biographies on historical figures. How she loved medical documentaries but hated going to the hospital, how he loved to read but would sooner pull teeth than write an essay. Every like, every secret told, was like unraveling the bandages on long healed wounds that scarred over, wounds that maybe were never intended to be revealed to the public. Maybe they were never to be revealed to anyone ever, because no one ever  _cared_ to know, to find out.   
  
There was a poem that Tojo read, something that she really liked. It was called 93 Percent Stardust, by Nikita Gill. It was poetic, romantic, and something that struck deeply within her. "We have calcium in our bones, iron in our veins, carbon in our souls, and nitrogen in our brains. 93 percent stardust, with souls made of flames, we are all just stars with people names." Some stars shone brighter than others in their bleak lives, but everyone was equal in the dark blue sky above. As she recited it, their hands had been entwined with each other, fingers sifting perfectly within the other's knuckles. Though no one could say for sure, perhaps their relationship would be nothing more than a dalliance, or maybe it would evolve to something more profound. Regardless of the outcome, there was no where they'd rather be than leaning on each other, hands locked gently, as they talked and talked about whatever, wherever the conversation took them.

* * *

Coming over to his house wasn't enough anymore. She wanted more, she craved more, she felt like she might go crazy if she had to spend a lonely, bitterly cold night without the dulcet embrace of her.. Her Shinguji. They had not established any kind of relationship, and yet, no words were apt enough to describe what they had. The possessiveness was truly the only way to illustrate what their relationship was. She was his, and he was hers.  
  
She began spending the night after school, whenever she felt like she could afford it. His room was a safe space, he made it safe. The vague scent of sandalwood and cedar comforted her, especially when she was curled up in his sheets and could smell his musk. He was so utterly comforting, it made her forget that her life at home was so dull and bleak. Falling asleep had never been so blissful, she no longer was haunted by the nightly terrors of her dreams, or the crushing existential weight she had to carry on her shoulders.   
  
He too, felt comforted by her presence. She gave him a sense of purpose, breathed life into him, made him less cynical. When they slept with each, in the most innocent sense of the word, it was nothing but utter exaltation. Curled up in his silky sheets, holding her in his frame, everything felt right, like everything was how it was always supposed to be. And he'd never change it. They'd spend hours and hours talking up until the damnable hours of the morning, before dawn even broke. And then it was nothing but peace.   
  
But sometimes, when she'd fall asleep before him, he'd admire her sleeping face. Everyone looked free of worry or guilt or issues when they were asleep, and she looked simply becoming. She slept to the soft hum of stardust, all the while a curious soul sat, gazing. Beyond the Earth, beyond the mood, beyond the celestial heaven.  
  
And when he slept, he'd sleep without his mask, revealing the same porcelain skin her killing game self had the privilege of seeing. Sometimes, she'd gaze upon his beautiful face, run her dainty fingers over his and wonder just how much more perfect he could be. To her, he was the prime example of beauty and elegance, something she strove to be.  
  
And when they woke up to the smell of petrichor from his window, it was a reminder that everything was going to be alright.

* * *

And then, hugging and kissing each other was no longer satisfactory. Yes, being with each other never felt so right, so fateful. But it wasn't  _enough_ anymore. She craved his touch, to be surrounded by him and nothing else. He wanted to feel her, touch her, explore her. She was sacred and beautiful, he didn't want to ruin it, but rather, indulge.  
  
It started off sloppy and clumsy, he awkwardly climbed over her and accidentally pressed his knee into her thigh, apologizing almost immediately for hurting her. She tried getting up too fast and ended up hitting her head against his, with the both of them hissing in pain. When she tried being on top to straddle him, she sat uncomfortably on his crotch, causing him to groan in pain. When he tried to grope her, even just gently, she'd tense up and push him away by instinct. Or when she tried to open up protection, she accidentally tore it all the way through. To put it simply, it didn't go very well the first few times. But they were all just honest mistakes, and they didn't give up on each other.  
  
Finally they got it right one day. And it was gentle and sweet and blissful.  
  
She was in a state of being half undressed, celadon uniform untied and halfway down her shoulders, skirt bunched up at her waist. Her pale shoulders even turned red as her face did, expression hot and flustered beneath him. As he rest in between her legs, his gold gaze hovered over her entire body, hands exploring and touching her smooth flesh, admiring just how beautiful she was. He'd even brush away her silvery hair from her face, just so that he could fully see her, kiss every inch of her complexion, see the expressions she'd make at every little move he made. Whether it was when he pushed into her, kissed her chest, teased her, he indulged in her entire being. He'd take note of how she'd grip what little clothing remained on his body, which was his white, unbuttoned shirt and gray trousers, fisting the fabric of his clothing, holding him like she'd die if she let go. He adored how she gave into him.  
  
And finally, when he got close and released, his body collapsed on hers, meshing together perfectly. His hot, hazy breath felt sultry on her sweaty skin, making her tremble whenever he whispered in her ear. He'd whisper, I love you, I love you, over and over again.  
  
At this point, they had still being using each other's last names, Shinguji and Tojo.  
  
"I love you, Kirumi."  
  
And Tojo deteriorated beneath him.

* * *

The killing game had long since ended, neither Tojo nor Shinguji cared about the results. The only good that game did was give them a chance to have a normal, interesting life instead of dreariness, and loneliness.   
  
At this point in their lives, they had already graduated from their respective high schools, and had acquired part-times jobs so that they could live in an apartment together. Shinguji worked as cashier at a book store, while Tojo decided that being a hostess would help her acquire that image of grace and serenity. While she did the job, anyway, she believed that she was fitting in that image quite well.  
  
Their lives weren't interesting or very engaging until that fateful day that they were selected as a participant for the 53rd season of the DanganRonpa Killing Game. And even after that had been over with, they still weren't very interesting. But that was okay. It was the little moments that only they shared with each other that made it all worth it, and much less hollow.  
  
After all, they were just stardust with people names.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely adore this pairing, nothing you say will sway me away from them. I think they are both lovely, and a much better pair compared to Shinguji's other pairing in my opinion.
> 
> Anyway, I've been on a huge writing spree as of late.. Which is good! I need to stop being so unmotivated and lazy. But here is this!
> 
> Though really, this pairing deserves more love and fanficiton and art.


End file.
